


Opalescent

by titC



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it, Dan & Charlotte are getting there, F/M, Gen, Linda is awesome, Maze and Trixie are shippers, So is Dan, Trixie plots and unlocks plots, as usual, fluff feels and feathers, no one dies, significant jewelry, surfer Dan, yet another identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: This is my attempt to write a wing!save!fic. It was supposed to be a 3k tops swan dive plus kiss fic, and of course it backfired. Have some feels instead.





	Opalescent

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [ PixelByPixel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel) for the cheerleading ♥

How did the man keep fit? His diet (from what Dan could see) was atrocious, he smoked, probably did all the drugs he could find, he drank a lot and partied all night most nights, and as for exercise? Hah. Nada, very probably – well, knowing him he’d probably claim he did one particular kind, but it _didn’t count_.

And yet, Lucifer had ran up the stairs ahead of them, even asking Chloe if she’d like to be carried upstairs instead of huffing and puffing along with Dan. And once they’d joined him on the roof, he wasn’t even a little bit out of breath. The jerk.

But they were here because they had a job to do, and so Dan focused on their perp. He was a middle-aged man, little paunch, glistening forehead, sweat patches under his armpits, and a crazed gleam in his eye that was very like Malcolm’s, at the end. And, the reason they were there: a gun, jerking from Chloe to Lucifer to Dan and back again; a gun with which he’d already killed, a gun that was probably fully charged – they’d found a half-empty charger in the stairs. He wouldn't have chucked it away without a fresh one to replace it with.

“Listen, Joe, we know you killed these people. We know why you did it. We know they stole from you, we know they hurt your family; but it’s all over now. Your wife and kids are safe from them, and they’re safe from us. They weren’t involved in your business. They’re safe. You can let go.” Chloe was approaching him slowly, her hands out, her voice soft, her own service weapon still in its holster. Dan exchanged a worried glance with Lucifer, but what could they do?

Joe’s gun kept shaking, but was now focused on her. “Step back! Step back, or – or – or I’ll do something!”

“You know it’s never too late to do the right thing. It’s all right to be angry and scared, but now you can make it stop.” She walked a little closer again and he seemed to hear her. The muzzle lowered, his shoulders did too. “Give me your gun now Joe, please. You can make things better, just let go and let us…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. As soon as she was close enough, Joe pushed her off of the roof and she fell with a short, cut-off scream. Dan yelled as he tackled their killer just before he shot him. (He’d pay, oh, he’d pay – don’t think about what just happened. Don’t think about the future. Don’t think about Trixie. Just think about keeping his ugly mug smashed into the concrete, pushing a knee into his kidneys. Twisting his arm high enough on his back that just _breathing too hard_ would dislocate it.)

That’s when he heard it. A sound of displaced wind and whooshing air, and then suddenly Lucifer was landing – _landing_ – on the roof and letting go of Chloe, long enough for her to wobble then catch herself with a hand on his chest. Her eyes were wide and she was in shock and she was… she was alive.

“Chloe!”

“Dan…?” She answered in a voice so small he could hardly hear her. He started to get up but Joe made as if to escape, and Dan’s knee had an unfortunate encounter with his jaw. There, bastard would keep still for a while.

“Chloe, how – you’re here, oh my god, I thought, I thought…” Even now, as he was holding her tight and breathing her in, he couldn't say it. Could hardly even think it. Chloe squeezed his waist one last time and stood by his side, still shaky but her eyes taking in everything around them; the other buildings, Lucifer, their perp, the ledge, the fall that didn’t kill her.

Dan threw an arm over her shoulders, for himself more than for her. She was here, she was alive. “Hey man, how did you…” But there was no need to ask, was there? The answer was pretty obvious. The two answers, twitching and quivering and somehow attached to Lucifer’s back. Dan’s eyes traveled down to his face, and where he expected smugness there was only terror.

His breathing was too fast, his stare too fixed, and he looked like a feather would knock him down - well. Of course. Lucifer finally took a step back, then another. Away from them, away from Chloe. When had he ever willingly walked away from her? “I…” Even his voice was too high. Nothing was right.

“Hey man, I don’t know how… well, what… but, I mean. Thank you. I can’t imagine – but you saved her.”

Chloe finally spoke. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? To show me?”

But he only shook his head, made a pained, lost sound and… and then, he wasn’t there. He didn’t move, he just, well, disappeared. “Did you just see…?”

“Yeah.”

“One minute there, then not.”

“Hm.” He could hear her thinking. “Same as when I fell. He was just suddenly there, slowed me down, brought – flew me up. _Flew_ , Dan.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t…”

“Me neither.”

They looked at each other, ignoring Joe’s grunts as he tried to change position. After a while, Chloe shook herself and got a plastic evidence bag out of her pocket to wrap the gun in before he could crawl any closer to it. How she was still thinking of the job right now, Dan couldn’t fathom; but that was so very her it made him smile timidly.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

“What the – Trix? What are you doing here?” Dan picked her up, backpack and all, because she’d always be his little girl. He’d never admit she was getting too heavy to carry.

“Lucifer?”

Chloe’s voice made him look up and there he was, looking even more distraught than before. Even more confused, even more frightened.

And then he disappeared again.

“Mommy?”

“I’m here, monkey,” and Chloe’s face slowly lost its ashen color once she slipped between Dan and Trixie.

“Mommy, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes I am. All good. But how did you…?”

“I was with Kelly and her mom and Lucifer came and said you needed me and it was urgent and Mrs Jones said sure and did you know he has wings?”

Chloe laughed, a little hysterically. “Yeah, we’ve seen them too.”

“And so he carried you here?” And when would people stop kidnapping Trixie from school or taking her way from normal playdates, Dan wondered.

“I was sad we didn’t fly, but he said we should hurry and so we were here right away. What happened, mommy? He looked very scared.”

“Well, we all were. I… fell from the roof, but Lucifer caught me.”

“Why did he leave then?”

“We don’t know, monkey. You’re right, I think he was very scared too.”

Dan disentangled himself from their group hug and called for back up to put Joe in custody, leaving Chloe and their daughter holding each other tightly. They didn’t look like they were going to let go anytime soon, and he wasn’t about to suggest it. Lucifer, damn the man, had done her right. Twice.

And he wasn’t really a _man_ , even.

Fuck. Just – fuck.

 

Sorting, making notes, filling some forms… It wasn’t the best part of the job, but Linda still enjoyed the quiet. Right until a crash and what sounded suspiciously like “bollocks!” came from her bathroom. No need to ask who it was, was there?

She sighed, capped her pen, and waited for him to appear. And waited some more. No more sound was coming, but the silence felt oppressive now. She didn’t imagine he could have hurt himself, but… Oh, fine. Of course she’d go.

She pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing out the creases in her skirt. She let her heels hit the floor a little louder than usual to announce her arrival, then knocked on the door. Silence. She knocked again. “Lucifer? Lucifer, is that you?” Still nothing. “I’m coming in.” Good thing this door closed but did not lock in case patients needed help.

She pushed on the handle and yes, there he was. The window she knew had been closed was now wide open, and he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by bottles of soap and shards of candle holders and a broken shelf. “Wow. What…?” He waved a hand over his shoulder, and she understood. He’d put them away now but of course, in her small bathroom… “You generally use the door.”

He raised his eyes from her shoes to her face, and she tried not to let him see or hear her surprise. They were red-rimmed, and puffy, and a bit wild; his hair was a mess and his shirt was crumpled and half untucked. And then he shrugged, and looked away.

“All right. Would you like to talk about it? Now you’re here?” She held out her hand, and he stared at it. “We’re not doing this here.”

He finally got up without her help, slowly and almost like the old man he was and wasn’t, and trailed after her to her office. Once there, he collapsed more than sat on the couch, and his eyes still kept that unfocused, wide, and terrifyingly blank look. She poured him some water and set it on the table, making enough noise to try and ground him in reality.

“You came here,” she finally said. Where was he, right now? Lost somewhere she couldn't follow, and she had to bring him back. It really didn’t look like a good place. “I am glad you know you can come to me when you need to.” At least he wasn’t fleeing Los Angeles, doing more drugs in one night than Keith Richards in his entire life, or… whatever else he could do. Fly back to hell, cut off body parts; who knew, with him?

So, patiently, she waited.

“The Detective,” he finally whispered. Ah, of course. And then he didn’t say anything else.

“How is Chloe?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, silently. He wanted to talk, Linda thought. He wanted to, but didn’t know how, or what. Her phone chimed, and she remembered she hadn’t muted it for this impromptu session. But it had made his eyes sharpen, and he was looking at her desk.

“No phones during therapy, it’s true for both you and me. You know that.” Even if she wasn’t sure if right now she was with her patient or her friend, at least she could let him see he was her entire focus.

“Doctor,” he said, voice low, eyes still on her phone.

“It can wait.” Linda’s gaze followed the line of his arms to his shoulders, from restless fingers hanging between his knees to twitching shoulders. He never was able to sit still for long, but this? No. Not like this. Her phone chimed again, but she ignored it. “We haven’t talked about your wings in a while.” This time, his shoulders jerked. Hah.

“The Detective,” he finally repeated. Paused again. Breathed deep and slow, too controlled to be natural. “You should see her.”

“Why do you think so?”

He fiddled with his ring. The black stone was swallowing all light, as usual. Dark as sin, dark as the deepest ocean, as the most secret cave. “Because of me.” She gave him time, time to find his words and time to shape them and sound them out in his mind and finally voice them. Words had never been hard to him, not for as long as she’d known him. But now, they were. “And you… you know.”

Oh. _Oh._ “Isn’t that something you wanted? For her to know?”

He shook his head, slowly. “But… to know _what_?” And that was the million dollar question, right here. Who was he? What was he? Did he even know what answer he preferred, wanted, needed?

“That’s for you to decide, Lucifer. Not me, not your brother, not your father. Not Chloe. You.” He made a sound between choked laughter and a strangled sob, but then her phone interrupted them again. She hadn’t wanted to leave her chair to go and turn it off, and now she regretted it. Most people knew not to call her at this hour anyway, who could it be?

“Please,” he said, waving his hand at her desk.

So she finally stood up, hoping the few seconds of reprieve would help him, too. She made to put it in silent mode but first checked the messages. They were all from Chloe. _Can’t find Lucifer. Is he with you?_ Then, _Looked pretty upset._ _Afraid of what he could do._ And the last one, _if you see him, tell him I’m ok,_ _and that I hope he is too_ _._

“It’s Chloe. She’s worried about you.” He stretched just enough to take the glass of water on the table and settled deeper in the couch, keeping the glass between Linda and himself but not drinking from it. “Lucifer. What happened? She said she’s fine, and that she hopes you are too.”

“And the offspring? Did she say anything about the offspring? Or Daniel?” he asked the water.

“She just asked about you.”

He turned the glass in his hands. “I ran away.” A little chuckle. “Flew away, rather.”

“So you showed her your wings?”

“I… He pushed her. The evildoer we were chasing. He pushed her off the roof.”

“And you caught her.” He shrugged. “You saved her. With your wings. That’s good.”

“I’m the devil.”

“Among other things. It’s been your identity for a long time, yes. It’s up to you to define who that is.”

“My father…” He paused. “The devil…” Another breath. “I… I. I define who I am. Yes.”

“It’s hard to find out who you want to be once you get rid of pressure and expectations, of what and who you think you should be. But I’m here to help, Lucifer. It’s my job.”

And for the first time today he looked into her eyes, and it felt like when the rain stops and everything is wet and fresh and green again.

 

Chloe settled into the routine of wrapping up a case, albeit with Trixie nearby and a perp who kept whimpering about wings and hell and god and please. No one paid him any attention; a lot of officers were used to this kind of rambling after so many months around Lucifer. He’d done his thing, Joe had snapped, whatever.

She tried to push her brush with death to the back of her mind, but how many times had she almost died in two years? Since Lucifer, since he appeared in her life. The idea was turning into lead in her stomach. He’d saved her, yes; he caught her when she fell off the roof, he got her to the hospital in time when she was shot, he somehow got his hands on a formula that was supposedly lost forever because… because… he’d gone to hell, hadn’t he. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about how he’d managed that.

“Chloe, are you ok? You’re white as a sheet. C’mon, sit down.” Dan dragged her to the side, pushed her down, and settled next to her. “Seen a ghost?” He forced out an awkward laugh. “I mean. But, like, you almost… and then… So. You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m alright. We can’t tell anyone what happened, you know that.” Explaining how their daughter had ended up with them had already earned them enough suspicious stares, even if Trixie’s (unprompted) claim that Lucifer had picked her up on a mysterious, Lucifer-ish whim and left her _with mommy_ didn’t raise too many eyebrows, Lucifer being Lucifer.

“I can finish up here without you. Take Trixie and go home. No one will blame you.”

“But…”

“It’s fine, Chloe. They all figure that you’d already clocked out anyway given the hour. It’s not even that big of a lie, we did meet here following two different leads.”

She let the brisk air get in her nose, down her throat, into her lungs; focused on letting it out slowly, warmed by her own heat. “Alright. Okay. Yes.” She didn’t move.

After a while, Dan bumped her shoulder. “Still nothing?”

She shook her head. “He’s not answering, but that’s not a surprise.”

“Nah. Give him time, he’ll come round.”

“Or run off to Vegas again. Or worse.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “What got him so terrified? Shouldn't _we_ be, instead of him?”

“Well, I mean, after seeing that pic of him with a unicorn painted on his face…” She smiled at the memory. “Off with you now, yeah?”

He stood and hauled her up, and after a last check with her fellow officers left for home, Trixie dozing in the backseat of her car. As she neared her flat, she suddenly remembered. Maze. She was supposed to be bounty hunting somewhere south of San Francisco, but she often was back earlier than expected. And if Lucifer was, well, _Lucifer,_ then Maze was what she said she was, too.

And yes, her car was parked in her usual spot.

“Maze’s back, mom! Look!”

“Yeah, monkey, I saw.” How did she feel about it was another question, one she didn’t really have an answer for.

She opened the door, let Trixie run in, closed it, and stood there. What was she supposed to do? Not throw herself at Maze like her little girl was doing, for a start, almost upending the glasses – why two? – and the bottle on the coffee table.

To her surprise, Maze actually sent Trix to her room after a few minutes of answering questions about her trip, and looked at Chloe from the couch. “Linda texted me.”

“She did? But…” She got her own phone out and found a message, sent while she was driving back home. _He’s here, he’ll be fine. Talk to me whenever._ “Oh.”

“So you know.”

“Yeah.” Finally, she took a few steps inside, and Maze poured what looked like vodka into a shot glass.

“Here, Decker.” She pushed it in Chloe’s direction, but didn’t make a move to get any closer.

“Thanks. I’m not… I’m not scared, you know. I mean, not really.” She sat in the sofa, let herself sink into it. “Annoyed when you leave dirty dishes in the kitchen.”

“Well, not everyone is a neat freak like Lucifer.” Maze smiled, and it dawned on Chloe. She hadn't been smiling before, not even when Trixie jumped on her. She’d been afraid of her reaction.

“No, not everyone. Hey, hand me that bottle, my glass is empty.” Maze didn’t move right away. “We’re okay. I swear. Just don’t scare Trixie’s sitter again, all right? It’s hard enough to find one.”

“It was just a tiny knife.”

And Chloe couldn't stifle a guffaw, because she knew what a _tiny_ knife was in Maze parlance, and well. They were okay. When Trixie poked her head out of her room to ask if she could join them, they were more than okay.

She sent a picture of the three of them, grinning and Chloe herself slightly tipsy, to Lucifer. She hoped he’d understand.

 

He’d said those words before. He’d said them, and yet he hadn’t realized how much he hadn’t understood them. When had he ever really thought about who he wanted to be, only for himself? He’d tried to please his father so hard, and then he’d done his best to get his anger if it was all he could hope for; and after that he’d put so much into hating him and yet still needing his approval, or just a gesture. A word. Something. He’d even turned his rage at god against his own body, and he had Linda to thank for helping him see that. He still ached, there. He’d cut them off too many times, in short succession, and had spent too much time around the Detective for the scars to have ever healed properly. He wasn’t even sure that he wouldn’t do it again.

He hadn’t flown since they’d been back, not until he’d found himself catching her as she fell, slowing her and finally getting them both back up. It had been instinctive, one moment on the roof and the next in the air. _Chloe_ , the only word in his head. _Chloe, Chloe, Chloe_. And then they’d landed and their faces – Daniel’s open-mouthed stare, the Detective’s shock… He’d tried to focus on the ache of long-unused, scarred tissues suddenly called into action, but he could only see their faces.

So he’d fled.

The child, he’d thought. Maybe that would help? Maybe that would comfort her? It had been impulsive and poorly thought-out, and he’d been lucky neither detective shot Satan himself for kidnapping their daughter. What had he been thinking?

Then, he’d gone to the only place he could think of. He’d imposed on her again, and again she’d been invaluable and a gift and how could he ever repay her?

“You’re shivering,” she said.

He blinked and looked around. He was still on her couch, but the world had moved past him. It was dark outside, and her pumps lay discarded under her desk. “Oh.” He found a smile somewhere and put it on. “Am I keeping you from going home?”

“It’s not that late.” She got up and opened a drawer, got a blanket out and shook it open. “You looked like you were deep in thoughts.”

“Oh, rethinking your no sex rules?”

“Lucifer.”

She knew him too well. “You’re very good at what you do, you know.”

She blushed just a little, and he would have smiled if he’d had the energy; but he felt… drained. Empty. Not in a bad (or good) way, just… empty. “Thank you. Now, you look exhausted and cold, so if you’d like you can stay here and sleep. Or I can drive you back to Lux.” For a moment, he thought of the club – the crowd, the music. He wanted it. Didn’t he? What did it mean, if he didn’t anymore? Could he not want it, just for tonight? Could he just want some quiet time with his thoughts, nothing between him and them? She waited patiently for his answer, her head titled a little. He could cut through the crowd, get into the lift, and go to the penthouse. Or take the lift directly from the garage. Or he could… now, he could even fly there and not risk meeting anyone. He’d have his piano and his bar and… too many things to distract him. And even, perhaps, his brother would come to pester him.

“I think I’d like to stay?”

She handed him the blanket and pushed him off the couch so she could unfold it. “You’re too tall to sleep decently on it if I don’t.” Everything felt… cottony. Her words seemed muffled, her touch when she prodded him to sit on the mattress and take his shoes off didn’t feel real, the world was blurry. Tilting, too. “There,” she said, and he found he was already lying down.

There was a buzzing sound, and he remembered he’d left his jacket… somewhere. Where was it? He made to sit up, but Linda was already holding out his phone to him. It was a message from the Detective. A picture, of her and Maze and the child. They were grinning, all three of them. Like they didn’t have a care in the world. She looked flushed, happy; maybe a little drunk. With her demon roommate, who hated doing chores and would kill for the offspring. She must know. She must, right? He looked up at Linda.

“It’s a nice picture,” she said. “They’re thinking of you.”

“Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“Maze.”

“You’re constantly telling me how smart she is. What do you think?”

“There are so many things I should tell her.” And it terrified him. Where to start? How would she react? He _wanted_ to. He wanted to tell her everything, but how?

“You don’t have to do it all at once.”

But he didn’t want to wait anymore, either. Tomorrow. He felt his exhaustion pull him under and his last thought was, Tomorrow.

 

Ooh. Ouch. She might have overdone it last night. Chloe waved an arm out of the bed until it hit the side table, and lo and behold – her phone was there, and plugged in too. She was pretty sure she hadn’t been in any state to remember to do that. Damn, it was a school day, she had to get up! Muffled giggles, then voices were coming from behind her door.

“Yeah, she’s awake, I can hear her. Decker, can I send the kid in?”

“Sure.” She was, hopefully, looking like she was waking up and _not_ totally hammered? Well, given the knowing smirk on Maze’s face, maybe not; but Trixie didn’t care. She rushed in and jumped on her bed.

“Maze is driving me to school!”

“She is?”

“I am. Can pick her up too. Problem?”

Chloe couldn’t quite determine the tone in Maze’s voice – daring her to have an issue with it, or genuine question. Bit of both, probably? “No, thanks. Just…” She waved a hand in her general direction. “Don’t get your knives out in front of the teachers or parents, all right?”

“Yeah, whatever. You ready, kid?”

Trixie was, and with a last sly smile at her state Maze left with Trixie in tow. The front door slammed shut, and she was alone.

Alone with her thoughts and doubts and, also, her desires. She had a long-overdue conversation to have with Lucifer, and before that she also had to admit to herself what she hadn’t wanted to – that she still liked him. She really did. That she wasn’t scared of him, but she didn’t know how to deal with everything else. There had been a day when she’d felt ready to embark on something with a man she’d believed to be good and in pain; that she’d believed hurt but trying to heal; a man deluded but, deep down, worthy of her.

And now? He wasn’t even human. He was immortal and she was not, he was the son of god and he was the devil, he could fly and he could also die, somehow. She’d seen it, she’d heard it; all the blood, and the silence after his last rattling breath. She remembered. There was too much she didn’t understand. Too much baggage, too much uncertainty. But… she liked him. As a friend, sure; as a person. As something else too, yes; but that… seemed too much. Too far. And he was so new to this, she feared she’d break him. An angel of the lord, king of hell, survivor of things she didn’t imagine, corrupter of Eve – however that _actually_ went down – and prince of desires. Lucifer, the Lightbringer. Something she definitely had questions about, too. Maze hadn’t said much, and Chloe hadn’t asked either; it wasn’t her place. She’d only said, _he’s done a lot for you, even when you_ _believed_ _the worst. He’s a_ _self-centered_ _idiot, but he’s_ your _idiot_ , she’d said. And she already knew, really; just… she just needed to hear it from him. To really, truly hear him.

She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him, she wasn’t sure she could. She wasn’t sure any of it was a good idea. But at least, they should have that talk. Maybe then the path would be clearer. But now, what to do? She didn’t want to pressure him into coming to the precinct, or go to Lux and force that conversation. Perhaps ask Linda for advice in a couple of days? How could she say, we’re fine, can we talk?

She checked her phone. He hadn’t answered her message last night, but he did receive the picture. she’ll give it time, she could do that. She would. They probably both needed it anyway.

 

Maze had, of course, been a hit at school – some mommies and daddies had eyed her with envy, and Ms Curzon had frowned as she’d already done that time Maze had picked her up. Plus, all her classmates had ooh-ed and aah-ed when the car had screeched in and stopped precisely in front of the door. Trixie had felt like the true President of Mars when Maze had opened her door and glared at everyone (even if mommy had said no to flashing knives). That had been really, really cool.

But the coolest? Plotting together on the drive there. And that was why Lucifer was waiting for her, blowing smoke in the air and ignoring all the looks he got. All the parents were jealous of his car, Trixie could see that; and so swinging her backpack she proudly skipped to him and stopped right before his legs (he _was_ really tall). Next to her, Ms Curzon shook his hand, reminded her to do her homework, and finally left them.

“Why didn’t you fly here?”

His face twisted weirdly. “That would be a bit literal for ‘come pick me up,’ wouldn’t it?”

“But _cool_.” To hug him, or not? He looked like he would break if she did, but she wanted to. His reaction was always fun. She decided to make him squirm, instead. “Why aren’t you working with mom today?”

“She… she doesn’t need me at the moment.”

“So are you going to stay for dinner?” He finally looked down at her. She didn’t know what had been so fascinating about the school roof. “Maze said you had to babysit me, right?”

“I understand there are no cars to fit your tiny size and so you can’t drive home, but really? Are you unable to be on your own for a few hours?”

“Of course I am! But mommy wouldn’t like it.” He didn’t seem convinced, so she whipped out another card. “And I like it when you cook. Can you cook dinner? For us?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Pretty please?”

He sighed but he didn’t say no, so she counted it as a win. Maze had said he might act a bit strange, so Trixie decided she’d let it go this time. She eyed the steering wheel but she knew she was forbidden from driving lessons until her feet could reach the pedals, and mommy had said then – and only then – could she take his place in the driver’s seat.

He drove fast, and Trixie loved it when her hair whipped her face as he got them home. She wondered if it was the same, or maybe even better, when he flew.

 

He knew it. He knew he’d been tricked into picking up the spawn and getting her home and keeping an eye on her, he knew Maze and the offspring had plotted, he suspected the Detective was in on it; but what was he supposed to do? The good doctor had said, don’t assume the worst. Prepare for it, yes; but don’t believe the world has it in for you. That fate or your father wants to hurt you. They’re not here, she’d said. They’re not here, but we are. Trust us, instead.

Trust. Hah.

When he’d woken up in Linda’s office a few hours later, she’d still been here, typing things on her work computer.

“Doctor?” he’d said.

“Yep, that’s me.” She’d made that little self-conscious giggle she often did. He’d always liked it – it was… real. Human, in so many ways. Perfectly imperfect, as the best specimens were.

“Shouldn’t you…” He’d stopped to clear his throat, because that had sounded like he’d gargled gravel. “Shouldn’t be back home by now?”

“My yoga class was canceled, so I stayed to wrap up a few things.” He’d waited a beat. “And I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Oh. He hadn’t known how to answer. “I should get out of your hair now.” He’d sat up and looked down at his wrinkled shirt, his hopelessly creased trousers.

“Lucifer…” He’d stopped tugging on his shirt tails at her tone. “Lucifer. You have friends. You _deserve_ friends. You’re worth it. Don’t throw it all away because you think you don’t, you’ll just hurt us and yourself. You don’t have to hurt. Do you understand?” He’d felt trapped then, trapped by her words and her bedclothes. “Take your time, just remember we’re here too. What you do, what you choose – it’s not only about you, it impacts us too. Because we care.”

Her words had echoed for a long time in his mind; and even now as he was cutting up squares and triangles and circles with the child (she called it _schoolwork_ , whatever that meant) they still did.

After leaving Linda’s office, he’d hesitated. It had been about midnight, and he could have gone to Lux; slipped into a fresh suit and gone down to party the night away, but somehow it didn’t appeal. He’d climbed onto the building roof and stared up. It had been dark, of course; but the sky had been that greyish colour through which no star could ever shine. He’d let his wings unfurl, he’d shaken them out, and he’d flown. All through the night, all over the city; and then he’d flown over the ocean and over the desert and everywhere he could – and always coming back to that one little apartment complex in Venice. No need to lie to himself about the reason, of course.

He’d only stopped when morning came, and then he’d landed home. He’d been ravenous, exhausted, every muscle aching; he’d felt so… alive. He’d devoured a huge breakfast, spent most of the morning in the shower finally taking care of his wings as best he could on his own – cleaning the feathers and realigning them and removing the broken ones. He’d ignored them since they’d come back, and he’d felt the strain of flying with unkempt wings and muscles weakened by disuse. They’d saved the Detective, but they hadn’t been his choice, either. Could they be his, really his?

And then Maze had called and here he was, playing tangram with a human child and planning what to cook for dinner. And… it was good? Dad help him, it was good.

And then _she_ got back from work.

 

They’d made less of a mess than she’d expected. There was some paper on the floor and all of Trixie’s pencils were strewn everywhere around them, but otherwise it didn’t look like a hurricane had gone through her apartment, which was what she’d expected. It also seemed like he’d refrained from questionable doodles and lewd cut-outs, so there was that. Satan, on his best behavior for her little monkey. The thought made her smile, even if she doubted said best behavior would go as far as tidying after him.

She praised Trixie’s efforts, tried not to laugh at Lucifer’s pout when she ignored his own arts & crafts attempts, and considered the contents of her fridge.

“Lucifer said he’d cook for us tonight, mommy.”

“Oh, um.” She turned to him. “Are you sure?”

He squirmed a little. It was so unlike him. “The child said… I thought… Of course I can leave? But!” Ah, there he was all of a sudden; the Lucifer she knew with a gleeful expression and a finger pointing to her ceiling. “If you’d like, Detective, we stopped at a decent Italian grocery and I can whip out a mean _risotto ai funghi_ for dinner; I picked up an excellent wine too and… maybe you don’t like mushrooms?” He bent forward to peer at her face. “You don’t seem too enthused, Detective. Would you rather I, er.” He straightened up. “But the state of your cupboards! And think of the child, you can’t only feed her…” He waved a hand at the entire kitchen. “Whatever it is you’re usually feeding her! Let me at least cook dinner, and then I’ll leave secure in the knowledge that tonight, at least, you’ll have a nutritious _and_ delicious meal. For free! It’s not a deal, you have my word!” He stood straight, eyebrows raised and waiting for her answer. “So? What do you say?”

“I like mushrooms, mommy.”

“And I’m sure they’re very fancy mushrooms too, right?”

“But of course, Detective.”

“Oh well then. If they’re fancy, then maybe you can stay. This time.” He looked over the moon, as if he hadn’t really expected that answer but really hoped for it; or perhaps he’d picked up on her teasing. She wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t seem as brittle as the day before on the roof, but his confidence was still a thinner veneer than usual.

She set Trixie to picking up their mess and setting the table while Lucifer prodded her until she caved in and settled on the sofa, barefoot and with a glass of wine, while he started on dinner. He kept a running commentary on what he was doing and why, probably trying to impart some knowledge on her or on her daughter’s more impressionable mind. He could be hoping to turn her into a chef, who knew? And since she suspected Maze was planning (she hoped it was only in the planning stage for now) to teach her to use knives, at least cooking was a slightly less inappropriate use of sharp blades.

Dinner was delicious, and between the three of them they made quick work of the cleanup; but then it was Trixie’s bedtime and it was only her and Lucifer, suddenly awkward and tongue-tied, looking at each other with the table between them.

“So, um.”

“Yes?”

“I mean…” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good.” He preened a little, and it warmed her to make him genuinely happy and proud. “Would you like something stronger to drink, now Trixie’s in bed?” He hummed in question, and she looked into Maze’s supply. Ah, yes – she’d seen that bottle in his penthouse. She poured them both some of that whisky – one of those whose names she could never pronounce – and settled into a corner of the couch. “So,” she said. “You’re the devil.” Calm and collected, and because of Trixie so close their conversation would remain so. Hopefully.

“Yes.” He stared at his Larph – Phral – Phroilg – drink.

“You saved my life.” He shrugged. “Lucifer, you saved my life. It wasn’t the first time, either.”

“I never want you to die,” he whispered.

“Why me? You’re… I mean, you’re the son of god, right? Who’s actually really real?”

“Aren’t we all?”

Aren’t we all real, or god’s children? Both, probably. “Don’t be flippant, you know what I mean. But you’re also, you can have anyone. Why me?”

“My father… You’re a miracle. Heaven-sent, literally.”

“What does that mean?” He’d called her that, once. Heaven-sent. She’d never forgotten it.

“It means you exist because he wanted you to exist. He sent my brother to bless your mother, and… here you are.”

“She always said I was her little miracle.”

“You are.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” He made to sand up, but she caught his arm. “Stay. I don’t… please stay.” He sat back, slow and cautious. “I’m not afraid, I swear. Well, not of you.”

“I am.”

“What?”

“Afraid. Of you,” he added in a voice so low she could hardly make it out.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know why you exist. I don’t know what freedom you actually have. I don’t know why you make me bleed even if it proved useful that one time when you were poisoned, I don’t know how to make you happy because half the time you’re furious with me and half the time you’re not and I can never quite fathom why, I don’t know what to hope for and I don’t know what I should do and I don’t… I don’t… I can’t even leave. I can’t even leave you, I’ve tried, for you and for me and because of…” He waved at the ceiling. Heaven. Of course, heaven. “Do you understand?”

She understood he was lost, and struggling, and had no idea on how to navigate any of this. No frame of reference, and how could there be? He was an angel. A fucki – well, a _damned_ angel. Hah. At least he had Linda, and that woman was clearly not paid as much as she deserved to deal with all that. “There’s really only one big question. One thing I don’t understand.” He looked at her like a butterfly looked at a flame – like he _wanted_ to burn, to be consumed and die, as long as it was her. It was hard to focus. “Why didn’t you tell me? What didn’t you show me those wings of yours? I think I saw a strange reflection once, and I’ve seen you do many inhuman things, but… I thought I was seeing things that weren’t there. I thought you wanted to tell me.”

“Oh, I did. Mum hurting the good doctor… it made me realize you too deserved the choice to know, even if it meant you’d never want to see me again. But then I just wasn’t me anymore. I had those wings stuck back and I didn’t want them and had my face taken away and… what could I show you?”

“ _Those wings_ , as you say, saved me. What’s wrong with your face?”

“This… what you see, is what I was. An echo, if you will. But when I fell from heaven, and after so long in hell… it burned. I burned. I carry the flames of hell inside me, or at least I used to. Now, I don’t know. It is ugly, but it is me, all that happened. How can I forget it? And when I cut the things off, they regrow again and again and why can’t I choose who I am? Why – ” He’d cut himself off when she glanced at Trixie’s door. “Apologies.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure she’s listening at the door, and she probably knows everything already. More that I did until recently, I’d say.”

“Oh?”

“Maze.”

“Ah.” He huffed a little laugh. “Of course.”

“Trixie is a good judge of character, you know. She always liked you.”

“A relentless optimist. Emphasis on relentless.”

Chloe smiled. “Yes.” A thing he’d said floated back up to the forefront. “What did you mean by, when I cut them off? Lucifer?” He shrugged. “Don’t do it again, okay? It’s probably better to leave that conversation another time, but just don’t. Please.”

“If that’s that you want.” She’d rather he didn’t refrain for her own sake, but she’d take what she could get. They couldn’t hash everything out in one night, and she felt as exhausted as he looked. His shoulders were sagging a little, his blinks slower… maybe it was her. Maybe the alcohol was hitting harder with her around.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Lucifer.”

“Then I won’t. Although their belonging to me is debatable, but I’ll respect your wishes.” He put his empty tumbler on the coffee table, stood up and tugged on his jacket. “It is late, and perhaps I should, well, go.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Their eyes met then, and she could see in the way his face softened that he remembered when she’d first said those words.

“Detective,” he said now as he’d said then.

She walked to him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek; and he looked at her with that mixture of wonder and disbelief and absolute adoration that her mind had always refused to bury under all his apparent betrayals and his Luciferness. “Goodnight, Lucifer. Get some rest.”

“You too, Detective.”

And off he went, stumbling when he remembered he was supposed to turn around in order to open the door instead of just staring at her. Not so smooth now, was he? He’d be horrified if he could hear her thoughts. She smiled at him, and he looked… the devil looked shy and a little bit awed, and she was sure then. She was sure of them.

 

Dan wondered what Chloe’s last text had meant. _Don’t worry_ _about the mess, everything’s fine_? What could have happened? He parked in front of the apartment complex and a quick look around told him Maze must be elsewhere. There was no Corvette either, but that was not the clue it once was.

Trixie made a beeline for the door, eager to get her beach things and for the day to start. He opened it and suddenly understood her message: an upturned chair, a punched-in partition… As he was assessing the state of the apartment, wondering if Maze had been angry at something or maybe just honing her skills before leaving for parts unknown, Trix disappeared into her room to rummage into her things. He left her to it and made for the stairs. Chloe had said he could come in and help himself to what their daughter needed and that he should come up and say hello, and so he did.

He found red-soled men’s shoes thrown near the door and took a minute to rethink what he was doing. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to see his ex-wife in bed with, well, with Lucifer; but then again she knew Trix and him were coming, right? Dan knocked softly on the door and pushed it open and, yes, he was there; but not as he’d expected.

Lucifer was still wearing his pants – well, _trousers_ , he’d say – and a very white shirt and black socks and he was lost to the world on top of the bed covers, his face mashed into the pillow next to Chloe’s. She looked up from her tablet, smiled a bit smugly at Dan and put a finger in front of her lips. The reason for the mess downstairs was apparent now, and damn – those things were huge. One wing was covering about half the bed and seemed to hold Chloe close to him, the other was hanging over the edge and trailing almost to the window. Half awkward, half protective. They looked sleeker than they had on the roof. Maybe there was such a thing as conditioner for feathers?

“Hi,” he mouthed at her. “Trixie’s going to run up here soon.”

“I know,” she mouthed back. The wings (fuck, dude had _wings_ , how was that his life now?) fluffed up and resettled as Lucifer sighed, and Dan got a glimpse of his long fingers curled in the fabric by her side. Chloe gave him a little impish grin and they braced for their little monkey’s no doubt enthusiastic arrival.

“Mommy!” And here she was, kissing her mother hello. “Is Lucifer asleep? In your bed?” She looked way too knowing for a child her age, Dan decided. But still young enough to unashamedly stroke angelic feathers and lift a couple before Chloe could stop her.

“Baby, don’t – ”

But Lucifer had of course woken up and there were pillow creases on his face and it was only because Chloe was firmly holding the, what, shoulders? things? bone things? of the wings that he didn’t destroy half the bedroom in his surprise. As it was, the aborted flapping only made his little monkey giggle. “Mwh…?”

“Lucifer!” He was still blinking like an owl with bed hair when Trixie wriggled between her mother and a wing.

“’lo,” he said. He tried to pat her head and ended up on her arm, but didn’t quite seem to realize it. “Oh. You.” He turned the patting into a sort of wave vaguely aimed at Dan and fell back on the bed with a long sigh, Chloe and Trix under his wing. Literally so. Dan got a glimpse of a new ring on his finger, same shape but a sort of clear opal.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I think I’m stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“The wing’s pinning her, I guess. Hey, can you let my daughter out? Things to do, places to be, you know how it is. Not everyone can laze all day in a bed.”

With a put-upon groan, Lucifer lifted his wing the smallest amount necessary for Trixie to get out, and she sneaked a little kiss on his cheek as she got out. “Never done that,” he mumbled. “S’nice. S’because of the Detec’ve.” He also muttered something that sounded like, “vlnbl,” but Dan decided to let it go and focus on the people who were actually awake and able to have a conversation.

“We’re going to surf today,” he said.

“Daddy said he was teaching us!”

“Us?”

“Yeah, Charlotte managed to get some visiting rights and convinced the judge there would be a police officer the entire time she’d be with her own kids, so…”

“Oh. Good. Yes?” He glanced at the floor for a second, fighting a smile that wanted out. “ _Dan!_ ”

“What.” He tried a frown on but couldn’t make it stick.

“Daddy l-i-k-e-s heeer!” She gave Chloe a last hug before thundering down the stairs.

“Oh father,” the pillow said.

“Be careful, Dan.”

“I will. And you, too.”

“I’m not…” He tilted his head at her and the Satan-pile on the bed, the corner of his mouth finally lifting up. “Fine. Yeah.”

“M’right here.”

“No one cares what you say, Morningstar. And stop punching holes in my daughter’s wall, yeah?”

“Whtvr.”

“Well. I should go.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, happy and… yes, happy. Like she knew who she was and liked it. “Have a good day, Dan.”

“I will. You too – both of you.”

And he meant it.


End file.
